


Flufftober 2020

by CinnabarMint



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Flufftober, Flufftober 2020, Idk why Warlock’s here, Ineffable Idiots, Multi, he kind of blindsided me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26762644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnabarMint/pseuds/CinnabarMint
Summary: Here’s myattemptsuccess at Ineffable Flufftober 2020.Enjoy!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 42
Kudos: 40





	1. Intro & Table of Contents

Because apparently my mind wasn’t satisfied with being part of 2 zines, having a multi chapter WIP, an extra piece for one of the zines, another multi chapter and 3 other fics on my to-do list, I decided I wanted to do Flufftober this year, against all good sense.

Here’s the deal.

I’ll try to keep each work 2 or 3 paragraphs long. I’m saying I’ll try because I’ve been known to lie about this before. I appreciate comments a ton and I’ll be happy to answer to any questions or corrections. If I miss a tag let me know. Tags and rating will update accordingly.

Here’s to this attempt at completing a month long writing challenge.

Let’s do this.

  
  
  


Day 1. In the Shadows

Day 2. Comfort

Day 3. “But you said”

Day 4. Wounded

Day 5. Sparkle

Day 6. Quicksilver

Day 7. “Stop Hogging The Blankets!”

Day 8. Unwavering

Day 9. Monochromatic

Day 10. “Once Upon A Time”

Day 11. Radiance

Day 12. Clenched Fists

Day 13. Whispers

Day 14. Possibilities

Day 15. Breathless

Day 16. Always

Day 17. Yours

Day 18. Things Left Unsaid

Day 19. Hand Holding

Day 20. Enigmatic

Day 21. “I Don’t Understand”

Day 22. “Do You Trust Me?”

Day 23. Childhood Bedroom

Day 24. Serendipity

Day 25. Resilience

Day 26. On The Road

Day. 27 Half-Written

Day 28. Starlight

Day 29. Thunderstorm

Day 30. “You Had To Be There”

Day 31. “Make Me”


	2. Day 1. In the Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A secret rendezvous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter allows for any gender configuration for the Ineffable Idiots. Do imagine what you like best!

Picture an old city, picture the little square with it’s cathedral, picture the streets' flowing, flickering light half illuminating the few people who are walking outside after the sun has set. Picture a narrow alleyway.

The sound of languid kisses and delicate whispers mingle in the air between two lovers. What little light can reach them is reflected on an auburn lock, slightly tousled, and a blond curl . A couple minutes later a blue eye notices the shine, and pulls them both deeper into the alley. Here they are safe, here in the shadows they can continue offering themselves to each other, playing this new game they’ve devised together. Dancing atop the thrill of the forbidden, they continue kissing, sharing, loving, here in this stolen moment.

They both know sunrise can’t find them here.


	3. Day 2. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley needs reassurance, he nicks it from Aziraphale

Crowley held the Ascot to his cheek and sighed. He had pocketed it from Aziraphale's desk in the backroom of the bookshop a couple of days after a half made promise and a tartan thermos had entered his life. He was certain that the Angel had snatched it from his neck as soon as he got back from delivering what he saw as a death sentence.

Even if Aziraphale was the one who constantly felt on edge, Crowley had needed the reassurance this time. The comfort of his Angel's scent, tinged with a note of a future together, filled his heart.

He inhaled again. 


	4. Day 3. “But you said”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has been tricked into a field trip by fake excuses. He isn’t happy about it.

“Come on, Angel.” Crowley whined from the driver seat of the Bentley.

“No, Crowley.”

“Please.”

“No. I didn’t want to go on a coast escapade, but you said there would be crepes. They were auctioning folios from the Library of Alexandria back in London. I’ve been waiting for that opportunity for centuries.” Aziraphale huffed.

There was no way Crowley was telling Aziraphale that he had already bid for those folios, it would ruin the surprise. He sighed and turned on the volume. He hoped Aziraphale would forgive him when the state agent showed them the Cottage in the South Downs Crowley intended to buy for them. To start a new life in this world they’d both chosen.


	5. Day 4. Wounded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley goes to surprise Aziraphale with a hug. The Angel doesn’t react as expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where we all realize I’m a filthy liar who lies.

Aziraphale was minding his own business, reordering his Chaucer collection when he felt Crowley’s arms reaching from behind, for a second he relaxed into the embrace, then Crowley tightened the hug and Aziraphale let out a hiss of pain. He felt Crowley recoil as if he’d been burned.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

Bugger, Aziraphale hadn’t wanted Crowley to find out this way. He hadn’t intended for Crowley to find out at all, truth be told.

“Ran into Sandalphon a couple days ago. Apparently he is still bitter about how I breathed hellfire to his face,” Aziraphale turned around, touching slightly left from his heart, he winced, “He got me on the chest. Thank God, Michael tackled him before he could do any real damage. She sent me a very lovely fruit basket as an apology. Gabriel even signed the card.”

“A couple days ago?” Crowley asked in disbelief, “We went for crepes yesterday!”

“Yes and I’m ever so grateful you weren’t feeling cuddly.” Aziraphale huffed.

“How come it hasn’t healed? You’re an angel, Angel.”

“Holy blade from an Archangel, It’s going to take a few days.”

Crowley sighed and slumped his shoulders. He took Aziraphale’s hand and led him into the back room. “Come on.”

“Crowley, what-”

“Let’s see what I can do to fix it.“ Crowley’s answer brooked no argument. Then, lower, he mumbled, “I wasn’t an apprentice under Raphael for nothing”.


	6. Day 5. Sparkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something shiny catches Crowley’s eye

Crowley wanders up and down the sidewalk while a battle rages inside his head. He knows it’s too soon, he knows he goes too fast, he knows he might scare Aziraphale. There are a thousand reasons why he should swagger his snakey butt away from _this_ shop window and put his money and charm to better use getting some French pastries with which he can enter the bookshop triumphantly.

Still, he can’t resist the pull of the engagement ring set with sapphires and emeralds that sparkles from the jeweler’s shop window. The colour had caught his eye as he was hit with the realization that the shine of the different stones combined matches Aziraphale’s happy eyes perfectly. Defeated, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“Fine!” He yells at the sky, and harrumps into the shop.

From a hidden corner in heaven, She smiles.


	7. Day 6. Quicksilver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley gets a fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I somehow forgot this was Flufftober...

Soho, London, 1870

"I don't even understand how you got ill, Crowley. You're a demon." Aziraphale fussed. He retrieved a mercury thermometer from Crowley's mouth, took a reading, and fussed some more. "How do you even got yourself a fever?"

"Powers cut off indefinitely for screwing an assignment. Hastur's idea. Bastard thought it'd be hilarious." Crowley whined, "don't sweat it, Angel, I'll just sleep it off."

Aziraphale bit his lip, "Are you sure, dear boy?"

"Yeah. Gonna be okay. Up and running before you know it."

"Well, I'll be in the bookshop, should you need me." Aziraphale nodded. He touched Crowley’s forehead for a moment, then took his leave from Crowley’s townhouse.

He wouldn't hear from Crowley in the better part of a century. 


	8. Day 7. “Stop Hogging The Blankets!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale loves fluffy comfort

Crowley woke up in the middle of the night, freezing his butt off. He grumbled sleepily, trying to reach for a blanket to cover himself with and finding none. He closed his eyes tighter, fighting wakefulness for a moment more, and failing that, preparing himself mentally for an angel sized scolding. He turned around, a snappy  _ Stop hogging the blankets, Angel. They’re not even tartan! _ dying on his lips when the vision of Aziraphale melted his heart.

A bit further to the left, Aziraphale had, presumably subconsciously, nested himself in every single soft thing they had in the cottage, and some that they didn’t. Not only the bedding, but a couple of jumpers, Crowley’s oldest t-shirts, and the chintzy settee throws from the bookshop’s back room. Buried in all the fluffiness, Aziraphale was giving off a faint glow, accompanied by rosy cheeks and a slight contented smile. Had this not been enough to shoot Crowley clean through the heart with tenderness, he realized that the Angel burrito included one of his feathers, just by his angel’s lips. Placed in such a manner that it caressed his face with every rise and fall from his chest.

Crowley smiled and leaned to lay a light kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead. Then, he snapped his fingers, manifesting a tartan blanket to cover himself with. He was certain that would show the angel.


	9. Day 8. Unwavering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s unwavering.  
>  _  
> Aziraphale is not.  
> _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention I lie about chapter length sometimes?

In the beginning, there’s a sacrifice, a bright smile, and a wing between him and the rain. Thus the spark ignites.

_In the beginning, there’s reassurance, and something like a warm breeze._

Then, there’s companionship, and a sense of fascination.

_Then, there’s slight reproach, and a sense of discomfort._

Then there’s grief. _Shared and shouldered._ Not alone _._

There’s frustration, disappointment, and an awful drink. There’s a happy voice from behind, a temptation taken back. There’s a wavering, hopeful smile. Thus the spark catches, turns into a candle flame.

_There’s a solitaire game, and a great cloud above someone’s head. There’s the clanking of cups, and a bit of daring. There’s satisfaction at making a friend feel better._

There’s cold and damp, and a bit of daring. There’s rejection. The candle light remains.

_There’s an outrageous proposal, there’s indignant righteousness. There’s cold and damp._

There’s a theatre, sing song taunting and denial. There’s an underhanded compliment. There’s a coin. There are those thrice blessed eyes. There’s giving in. The flame grows.

_There’s the Bard and his star, there’s panic and denial. There are sweet words heard in a soft voice, Lord he hopes he’s wrong. There’s a coin. There’s an unspoken petition, met with indulgence. There’s something like a warm breeze touching his skin._

There’s recklessness and eye rolling. There’s a voice, saying his name the way he’s always wanted it to be said. There’s a reminder of danger. There’s a smirk, and the pleasure of freeing someone from his bonds. Perhaps one day he’ll manage to get the ones that truly matter.

_There’s a fool’s errand, and cruel taunting. There’s hope, a dashing rescue. There’s a reminder of danger. There’s freedom from chains. Thus the spark ignites._

There’s danger, and risk. There’s the fire, bigger than big, burning, spurring him on to find a way. There’s ingenuity and cleverness, there’s brilliance. There’s victory.

_There’s danger and smiles. There’s an unwanted reward, not asked for. There’s an hour alone, fretting. There’s confusion, there’s calm._

There’s nerves and annoyance at unnecessary righteousness. There’s an unspoken petition, met with a cruel rejection and crueler words. There’s the fire, burning him this time, and it hurts.

_There’s righteousness, and rambling. There’s a piece of paper, suddenly there’s no heat in his veins. There’s terror, there’s fury. He thinks there’s cruelty. But he really doesn’t know. There’s fear for the life he values most. Thus the spark catches._

There’s sleep.

_There’s silence._

There’s pain in his soles, there’s banter, there’s a miracle. There’s books, and a smirk. There’s an offer. There’s what he loves most, recovered. There’s his soul breathing again.

_There’s confidence and aplomb. There’s betrayal, there’s a silly accusation and banter. There’s a miracle. There’s a long missed smirk. There are books. There’s a bomb in his heart. There’s the world tilting._

There’s a stupid, desperate idea. There’s cunning, and planning. There’s an angel in his car. There’s a tartan thermos. There’s an offer, a bit of boldness. There’s a rejection, and a promise.

_There’s a tartan thermos, there’s pain, and a sliver of hope. There’s an offer, Lord he hopes he’s right. There’s rejection, and a promise._

There’s a baby, and his goddamned luck. There’s persuasion and a plan. There’s hope.

_There’s a baby and resignation. There’s reluctant complicity and a plan. There’s hope._

There’s years doing his job. A countdown, trickling slowly. There’s hope.

_There’s years doing his job. A countdown, trickling slowly. There’s hope._

There’s a mistake. There is no hope. There’s force of will.

_There’s a mistake. There is no hope. There’s stubbornness._

There’s desperation, and begging. There’s a spoken petition, there’s rejection. There’s cruelty. There’s betrayal and pain. There’s the fire, burning him again.

_There’s desperation and deception. There’s a choice, he’s thorn. There’s a spoken petition. There’s rejection and cruelty. There’s the biggest lie he’s told in his immortal life. There’s him, backstabbing himself. There’s the fire, he prays, wishing it wasn’t there._

There’s a fire. It got here before he could. There’s grief. There’s solitude.

_There’s white halls, and berating. There’s certainty. There’s a Leap of Faith._

There’s an airbase and a boy. There’s his friends, 2 witches, 2 witchfindes and a choice. There’s Hope.

There is the end of the world. Then, there is not.

There’s exhaustion, and wine. There’s pain. There’s an offer, met with indulgence.

_There’s exhaustion and wine, there’s pain, met with an offer._

There’s _trust._

_There’s a trial, and holy water. There’s confidence and an opportunity. There’s his chance._

There’s no trial, and Hellfire. There’s daintiness, and confidence. There’s his time to shine. There’s an opportunity, and a chance.

There’s lunch, a _promise paid._

There’s a _Future_.

There’s _Love_ .  
  



	10. Day 9. Monochromatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale decides to redecorate Crowley’s flat

Aziraphale closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He rolls his sleeves, cracks his neck and wiggles a bit intent on relaxing his muscles for the challenge he’s about to undertake. Then, he opens his eyes to the absolute monochrome of Crowley’s flat. Black on black on black, with a spot of charcoal grey to liven it up. Even the plant room looks black, somehow the plants only serve to accentuate the darkness, and not the other way around.

He has sent Crowley on a scavenger hunt for those little Mexican pastries he’s so very fond of, and the only person that would make pan de muerto so far away from Día de muertos is Anathema, who lives 2 hours away. That should give Aziraphale something like 2 hours and a half to work with.

Aziraphale squares his shoulders, snaps his fingers, and suddenly a couple of items in his personal tartan lay before him. He really doesn’t want to intrude, and he’ll take them away if so Crowley wishes. But he doesn’t know what else to do to let him know that he wants to be here, in this space with him. Maybe this way he will understand that Aziraphale would be his if only Crowley would ask.

Aziraphale takes a tartan throw cushion, and begins to work.


	11. Day 10. “Once Upon A Time”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gets to answer who himself and Crowley are.

“So, who are you in the end?” Pepper asked a couple weeks after Armageddon’t, during the saviour’s mixer that had been Tracy and Anathema’s brainchild.

Aziraphale wiggled, Crowley rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Come on dear boy, I didn’t get to tell this story at the airbase.”

Crowley raised from his seat. “Fine, but I’m going to need something stronger if you’re going to tell the _full_ story. Bring you anything?”

“Another cup of tea, dear boy.” Aziraphale smiled.

“Yup.” Crowley moved away as he heard Aziraphale starting.

“Once upon a time, there was a wily serpent in the garden. And I was on apple tree duty-“


	12. Day 11. Radiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Has Aziraphale’s halo always been this bright?

“Crowley, Crowley!”

Crowley lay on the grass, a dopey smile on his face, looking up at his Angel’s concerned eyes. Crowley couldn’t remember Aziraphale’s radiance being quite that sun-like, but he was not complaining.

“Sorry, Mister Aziraphale.” Adam and the Them looked sheepish from beyond the garden gate. A baseball bat hung limply by Brian’s side.

Aziraphale scanned his surroundings, eyes catching on the baseball that lay a couple meters from Crowley’s head. He looked to the sky, asking Her for patience and directed his most polite customer service smile at Adam. “There’s no problem, dear boy. Everything will be tickety-boo.”


	13. Day 12. Clenched Fists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale struggles with his mind. Crowley’s there for him.

Aziraphale almost gave in, almost. Crowley and he were kissing in the backroom of the bookshop, as they had been doing for the last half hour. The temptation to pull Crowley into his lap and surrender to him was becoming too much. But he felt he didn’t have any right to hold Crowley tight, not after what he’d said at the bandstand. Not after how he’d treated him all those years. No matter how much he wanted to.

Aziraphale clenched his fists, and buried his nails deep into his palm. Without meaning to, he let out a whimper that betrayed the tension in his mind. Crowley pulled back for a moment examining Aziraphale’s face.

“Angel?” He asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Dear,” Aziraphale took a moment to breath and gather his thoughts.

“What’s wrong? Am I stepping over a line?” Crowley asked of him, calmly.

“No, not at all, my dear. I just,” He swallowed, “It’s too much. You’re too much. I want to hold you so bad, but I’ve been so awful to you, my darling.”

“Angel, look at me,” Crowley put his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “Were we under pressure?”

“Yes,”

“Was it a bastard of a week?”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so crass about it, Crowley,”

“Did you float back to earth, to me, and then possess a woman so we could stop Armageddon?”

“Yes,”

“Did you soak in holy water for me?”

“Yes. I did,”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley pulled his chin up with his thumb and forefinger, so he couldn’t look away. “You did everything you did to try to keep us safe. To keep everyone safe. This last week, and for the last six millennia. Yeah, it hurt, but I get it _. _ ”

Aziraphale tried to hide his face in shame, but Crowley’s hand impeded it. He averted his eyes nonetheless. Suddenly, Crowley realized what his Angel needed.

“Aziraphale,” He tugged lightly, to make Aziraphale look him in the eye, “ _ I Forgive You. _ ”

Aziraphale gasped. His eyes welled up, feeling keenly how a weight disappeared from his heart.

“Are you sure, my dear?” He whispered, voice broken.

“Yeah, Angel,” Crowley kissed the tip of his nose. He slowly unclenched Aziraphale’s hands and pulled them to his hips. He felt Aziraphale hesitate.

“If I touch you now, I will never want to let go,”

Crowley smiled, “What makes you think I ever want you to let go?”


	14. Day 13. Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whisper can contain multitudes

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers like a benediction, the moment Aziraphale takes his glasses off and cups his face like he can’t believe they’re finally safe.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, chuckling when he comes into the bookshop to find every single shelf in the middle of an  _ urgent reorganization _ .

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers and groans a bit. He’s been waiting for the Angel for an hour. He’s certain his Angel forgot about the picnic and is now trapped in one of his books.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, as a soft whimper leaves his lips, so close to the Angel’s and finally, finally touching.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers into Aziraphale’s ear, while his Angel nibbles at his neck, sending exquisite shivers all over his body.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, pulling Aziraphale onto his bed. Before the Angel can kiss him again like a man possessed.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley whispers and it’s a question. His angel nods.

“Ah- Aziraphale!” Crowley whispers, and whispers, and whispers. Like a prayer to the only being he’s ever really worshiped in his entire existence. The One who’s undoing his mind and body with devoted, decadent pleasure.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers in his sleep, blessed by Aziraphale to dream of whatever he likes best.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers to his ear some months later and he presses a kiss to blond, downy curls. He needs to tempt the Angel to a drive to the seaside.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, terrified. Opening a door to a cottage.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, because his voice won’t let him do anything else. He’s on one knee, left hand holding Aziraphale’s right. Right hand holding the keys to the cottage they’re exploring, attached is a keychain and a ring.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, touching his forehead to Aziraphale’s, as the ragtag team of humans who averted the apocalypse applauds. The Officiant smiles, presenting the newly married couple.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, looking at his barely awake husband’s face, radiant in the morning light.


	15. Day 14. Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley fantasizes

Crowley stood before a mirror in his miraculously not bombed flat. The plan was simple, follow the Nazis, walk into their rendezvous, and save Aziraphale in the nick of time. He could just picture it. Aziraphale, in his Sunday best, turning at the sound of his voice and smiling that hopeful smile that had graced Crowley in The Bastille. Happy to see his best friend after almost a century apart. Crowley would swagger his way into the meeting, and charm his way and the Angel’s out of a sticky situation. Then they would go to the bookshop, perhaps have a nightcap. Or they could get out of the city for the rest of the war. They could maybe even go to one of the countries that were at peace. The world was a big place.

But first things first. Bentley, Church, Rescue.

Then, possibilities.


	16. Day 15. Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes Whispers leave you Breathless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> This is a companion piece to “Day 13. Breathless.” From Aziraphale’s POV.
> 
> Once the challenge is over I will post the two pieces intertwined.
> 
> Enjoy!

They’re finally back in the bookshop, after their executions, after the Ritz, and after the End of the World. Aziraphale can’t believe it, he cups Crowley’s face and takes his glasses off. The look of hope in those gold eyes steals his breath. 

The next morning, Aziraphale is aghast. He can’t believe Adam had the nerve to reorganize the bookshop in alphabetical order, as if he wanted any customer to find the book they’re wanting. He almost can’t breathe at the mere thought. He sets on to fix this.

A couple days later, Crowley storms into the bookshop. Looking at Aziraphale with a rather pissed off face, his hands holding a picnic hamper. Aziraphale scrambles for breath. He can’t believe he forgot the picnic he promised Crowley 50 years ago.

When they come back from a lovely lunch picnic that turned into a lovely dinner in a little café not far away from the shop. They sit on the settee in the back room of the shop. As soon as they realize that they’re practically touching from shoulder to toes the tension in the room changes. Aziraphale looks up at Crowley and suddenly he’s breathless. He wants to speak, he wants to talk. He can’t. Crowley takes his glasses off, and they’re so close, too close. They only need to dare to change their destinies. Again. A touch of free will.

Aziraphale doesn’t know who kissed first. He doesn’t care.

Soon, he’s climbed into Crowley’s lap. And he’s nibbling at the demon’s neck like the Apocalypse has just restarted. He doesn’t have time to breathe, he doesn’t want to. He’s busy at the moment, thank you very much.

Aziraphale’s not entirely sure how they got to the bedroom. He pushes Crowley onto the mattress and stops for a second, taking Crowley in. He’s thankful that he doesn’t need to breathe because the lord knows he couldn’t at the moment. He gives in when Crowley pulls him, and starts kissing again like a madman.

They tangle together pushing and pulling, holding and never intending to let go. Eventually, Aziraphale catches his name in Crowley’s voice, asking if this is alright. Asking if he can continue. Aziraphale sighs, he looks Crowley in the eye and nods.

Aziraphale wishes he could whisper Crowley’s name just like he hears him do. But he doesn’t have the presence for that. The miracle of them together is too great to embrace and the sensations are building with irresistible force. Before he knows it, what little air he has is punched out of his lungs and his body’s contracting and releasing with the unspoken rhythm of their joined hearts.

Soon Aziraphale’s breath becomes softer. He’s running his hair through Crowley’s hair, and he kisses his temple. Making sure he will dream of whatever he likes best. When Crowley murmurs his name between dreams, Aziraphale wishes he could have his breath stolen away just like this, every day of his life.

Time flows as time is wont to do. A season or two later, Aziraphale is in the back room of the bookshop reading, when he hears the twinkle of the bookshop bell and the long, languorous steps that follow. He smiles to himself and keeps reading. When he feels a kiss pressed to his head, he looks up and lets Crowley tempt him into whatever crazy scheme he’s currently planning.

They arrive at a little cottage somewhere in the South Downs. Crowley opens the door and whines something that vaguely sounds like Aziraphale’s name. Aziraphale nods and enters the cottage. He’s immediately enchanted by it. As he turns to ask Crowley if his temptation consists of a weekend away, he freezes. For the umpteenth time since they’re together, Crowley’s decided he can do whatever he wants with Aziraphale’s thoughts, pulse, breath. He’s kneeling. Offering Aziraphale a set of keys, a ring and the promise of their lives together. For a moment the air stills.

Of course he says yes. How could he not?

After the wedding, he’s a mess. He’s tears, and smiles, and sighs. He’s incandescent Love. And now he’s not alone. From now on, he’s never alone.

The sun enters through the east window of their bedroom. Aziraphale opens his eyes a bit, not wanting to come back to reality yet. His eyes land on his husband’s face, and he remembers that finally, reality’s better than dreams. Crowley smiles. Aziraphale is once again, and forever, breathless.


	17. Day 16. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley meditates on the nature of Love

Love, Crowley has found, is an exasperatingly hard-to-describe concept. He’s seen humanity struggle with the definition for centuries. People say Love is a feeling (true, but too simplistic). They say it’s a battle (extremely dangerous if applied to the wrong context). They say it’s God’s gift to the world (he blatantly refuses to accept that one). They even say it’s a chemical reaction (once again, true but too simplistic).

The one conceptualisation Crowley can actually get behind is Love being considered a force of nature. He really likes that one. It has enough plausible deniability that humans can let it be an excuse if needed, and enough irrefutability that they can let themselves become better by it’s inspiration. All in all, it makes Love neutral; not God-given, nor evil at its root. Just something that is. And he’s seen them use it for good and for ill all this time. He’s seen humanity destroy and create in the name of Love. He’s seen them go to extreme lengths, solve impossible puzzles, and get out of the toughest situations, just to see their loved one’s smile.

Crowley’s mind wanders a moment. He thinks of countless pastries, bottles of wine, rescues, and little gestures. He thinks about a sunshine smile and the kindest eyes Life has ever seen. As he listens to Aziraphale ramble about his day and laugh, he sighs. He takes a drink of his wine. Yes, he can get behind the idea of Love being an irresistible force of nature.

After all, that’s what it’s always been for him.


	18. Day 17. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale reflects on the nature of Belonging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven’t read the previous chapter. Day 16. Always, go do that now.
> 
> Or you could do it after... I guess...
> 
> Anyway. Enjoy! :D

Belonging, Aziraphale has found, is an exasperatingly hard-to-get concept. He’s seen humanity struggle with it for centuries. People say belonging has to do with the place you come from (true, but too simplistic). They say it has to do with ownership (extremely, extremely dangerous if applied to the wrong situation). They say it has to do with family and duty (he blatantly refuses to accept that one after his experiences with Heaven). They even say it has to do with luck and chance (once again, true but too simplistic).

The one conceptualization Aziraphale does like, has to do with two things: being happy with your current circumstances, and being able to choose them in the first place. Free Will, as it were. And he loves watching humans living their lives trying to find a place where they belong. It goes beyond good and evil; it’s entirely human. He’s seen people do the most wonderful and the most hideous things out of a sense of belonging, or lack thereof. He’s seen them exalt it and corrupt it. He’s seen people lay down their lives out of a sense of belonging.

Aziraphale’s mind wanders a moment. He’s thinking about acceptance and love. He thinks about the only place where he can actually be himself and be 100% right at the same time. He thinks about golden eyes, and the slyest smile this world has ever seen. As he watches Crowley snort at the tale of his day, he lets out a dreamy sigh. He takes a sip of tea to disguise it.

And if his heart has been trying to yell at Crowley, “Of course, of course I’m yours. Any day” from the beginning... 

Well, it has always been like that for him, after all.


	19. Day 18. Things Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens with the things left unsaid throughout the centuries?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta for this chapter, we fall like Crowley

It's the same story with them, over and over again. A wall, the first rain, a wing, and the things they left unsaid. The never ending rain, the searing pain, and the things they left unsaid. The cold and damp, and the things they left unsaid. Always a beginning, a middle and the things they left unsaid.

However, they are both masters of miracles. Eventually, the things left unsaid become a language of their own. And they become fluent in it. Together, they bloom.

The things left unsaid become flowers, and chocolates and dinner. They become wine, and books, and furtive smiles in the dead of the night. They become soft brushes in crowded spaces. They become discreet, tentative gazes. They become hope, when the world is going to end, and then it doesn't. They become sacrifice for the sake of each other. The things left unsaid become a toast in the Ritz. 

Out of the blue, and out of some wild desperate hope, one day Aziraphale says them.


	20. Day 19. Hand Holding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has to choose: His reputation or getting something he desperately wants.

Crowley can’t bring himself to do it. Even if it’s right there, for Someone’s sake. But he’s a demon, however unemployed, and he still has some self-respect. There’s a reputation he has to maintain. Also, there’s no way Aziraphale would want this, would he? He’s always so particular and fussy when they’re out. It might be a bad call, after all.

It would be so easy, though.

Crowley looks around at the people and the tables and the specialty foods. He takes a deep breath. Blushing red as a tomato, he takes Aziraphale’s hand in the middle of the South Downs farmers’ market.

Aziraphale looks up and beams, and Crowley feels his insides melt. It might have been worth it, in the end.


	21. Day 20. Enigmatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale spies on Crowley

**Ancient Egypt**

Aziraphale looks at the demon from a distance. Always clad in black clothes, even in this part of the world, where the dark colour is surely making wearing them uncomfortable (and acquiring them way more expensive than normal linen). He’s been following the serpent around. Gathering intel, he tells himself. He can’t help rolling his eyes, scoffing lightly at his impersonation of the Egyptian’s Snake God. So dramatic.

On some nights, though, a little part of him can’t help thinking that it suits him. That he finds the little smirks and the sly smiles intriguing. That Crawly has something about him that’s enigmatic, irresistible for a knowledge seeker such as Aziraphale. That little part of his mind knows, with dead certainty, that were he human he would worship at the altar of this flame-haired god. That he would delight in being consumed by his blasphemous glory.

But it’s the middle of the day, and he’s an angel. So he shuts that part of his mind away.


	22. Day 21. “I Don’t Understand”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flapper fashion, hot blood, and daggers. What else could you want?

**1920s**

Aziraphale held Crowley against the door of the bookshop. He pressed his body against hers, dusting her neck, shoulders, and collarbones with increasingly heated kisses (advantages of the current flapper fashion, one could say). Their recent run-in with a group of thugs armed with switchblades had been quite unexpected. It had certainly been even more unexpected for the bandits, seeing an “old man” wrestle one of them for his knife and then watching it burst into flame in his hands. Then they collectively decided that the redhead’s pearls were absolutely not worth it. All that righteous activity had had the secondary effect of leaving Aziraphale’s blood hot, with almost no output for it. Except for Crowley.

Crowley sank her hands in Aziraphale’s downy curls, tipping her head to allow her angel further access. She could feel his hands roaming along her body, thin silk letting her feel the heat of her angel’s touch. Her breathing was starting to become ragged and she was on a high speed train to incoherence when she managed to whisper, “Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale pulled himself from her clavicle with an effort worthy of Samson. “Yes, dear?”

“You should probably stop. I’m not sure I’ll want to if you keep this up,”

“But I want you,” He pursed his lips in a pout.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean you want me?”

Aziraphale kissed her deeply. “What I’m trying to say, my dear, darling serpent, is that I wish to know you… biblically. It is your choice of course,” Aziraphale waited. Oh he wanted this, terribly, but he wouldn’t move a centimeter without Crowley’s consent. He looked her in the eye. Crowley blinked, then she let out a tiny smile and nodded.

Aziraphale smiled with a slyness unbecoming of an angel. With the dagger he had claimed earlier, he snapped the thin straps of her dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do NOT hold anything with a sharp edge close. To anyone’s neck, unless you’re an angel with healing powers, or wolverine.


	23. Day 22. “Do You Trust Me?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An echo through the ages

It’s the same story with them over and over again; little things, little gestures. It starts properly with a toast in Rome, and a not-quite-there temptation. And it grows slowly. It molds to them, and to their moods. To their wishes and expectations. To their personalities.

And below all that, a simple unspoken question. Going back and forth.

Do you trust me?  _ Do you trust me? _

Echoed between their words and deeds. In the subtext of their conversations and the camaraderie. Over time, it becomes the foundation of their love.

Do you trust me?  _ Do you trust me? _

Through time and space, even when things are going to hell and they’ve hurt each other unforgivably in an attempt to keep each other safe. Even after the End, the whisper remains.

Do you trust me?  _ Do you trust me? _

In a dark flat right after the end of the world, laying on a bed with their feet by the other’s head, they watch the ceiling. They swallow and reach for the other. When they clasp hands the whisper changes, along with their lives.

_ Trust me one more time. _

  
  



	24. Day 23. Childhood Bedroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley comes back to a Childhood Bedroom of his past

Nanny Ashtoreth took a deep breath and steeled herself. She knocked on the door of her dear Hellspawn’s bedroom. Warlock opened without looking up, eyes glued to whatever little hand console he was playing with.

“What?” Warlock said, with utter disinterest.

“Is that the way to greet your Nanny,” She tsked, “thought Francis had taught you better”

“Nanny!” Warlock launched himself for a hug. Then thought better of it and stepped away. Squearing his shoulders with all the authority that being raised as the Antichrist could give him. He raised one eyebrow and looked Ashtoreth up and down, “Well. That’s the way I greet someone who leaves out of the blue. On my birthday, no less,” He tried to infuse his voice with cold disdain. He missed by a mile.

“Francis and I had to go and save the world so that you can rule over it, Hellspawn,” Nanny smirked, no harm in keeping a bit of Warlock’s worldview intact. Hell knew he’d need the confidence as he grew up, “We can’t rule the world if there is no world, can we?”

“So you left with Francis?” Of course Warlock would get stuck on that bit. Nanny blushed.

“Yeah,” Nanny gulped. Warlock had a smirk of his own.

“I knew it,”

For a second, Nanny debated if she should deny the accusation. But he chuckled, instead, “Of course you knew. He’s waiting outside in the car. What do you say we get out of here for ice-cream before you leave for America?”

“Does Mom know you’re here?”

“Pffft. Of course not. Who do you think I am? Francis?”

Warlock smiled, “As long as I’m making trouble, I’m in.”


	25. Day 24. Serendipity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How they started meeting.

At first, Crowley and Aziraphale met by accident every century or so. Nothing really interesting to report, mostly professional courtesies and a little bit of gossip were exchanged. A glass of something drinkable if available, at most. But as humanity grew complex, the nature of their relationship deepened. What had started as courtesies slowly turned into lunches and dinners. Shared events and shared tickets. A friendship in all but name. 

Around the mark of 4000 years of this, Crowley got tired of letting serendipity do the work, and decided to tempt Aziraphale into a bit of a more formal arrangement.

It went down like a lead balloon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s no translation for the word “Serendipity” in Spanish. I had to work around it.


	26. Day 25. Resilience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale falls, Aziraphale rises, constantly. He’s watched it for ages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read it before you try to murder me.

Until very recently, Aziraphale, Principality and Guardian Of The Eastern Gate, had one fear above all else: The fear of Falling.

It is curiously ironic, Crowley thinks, that he has witnessed the Angel fall so many times and in so many ways already, knowing that if asked, Aziraphale wouldn’t acknowledge a single one of these events.

Crowley has seen Aziraphale fall for traps set by the humans; fall for schemes that are less than righteous. He has seen him take the fall for the mistakes of others. He’s seen Aziraphale fall and crumble before the Archangels time and time again. He’s witnessed Aziraphale fall in love, and into despair once the humans he has loved perish. He’s seen his Angel fall to his knees in prayer and anguish. Hell, he’s even seen him lose his balance and fall onto the floor.

But the most amazing part, Crowley thinks, is how he’s seen Aziraphale get up time and time again. Aziraphale has gotten himself out of trouble and has engineered his way out of sticky situations. He’s picked the pieces of himself after the Archangel’s have pummeled him, and he’s pasted them together again. Aziraphale has grieved, and eventually he falls in love again, like a fool; like a brave man. Aziraphale has seen the worst of the worst, the destruction of the world, and he’s risen above all of it - be it man-made or God-dictated - with his head held high and his heart full of kindness.

But perhaps what Crowley cherishes most is how he’s seen Aziraphale fall in love with him. That’s his little secret, he’s always known. And for this, he hopes they will rise together.


	27. Day 26. On The Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley’s been ear-wormed.

It’s been six freaking days and Crowley still has that bloody song stuck in his head. As if it wasn’t enough that he's the victim of an ear-worm, it turns out the song is from a freaking children’s show he convinced the angel to watch with him, just to annoy him. He didn’t even get that right, because Aziraphale loves the show and is considering very seriously to start selling a bit of merchandise regarding it, citing, “Well, dear boy. Representation is fundamental and that show of yours is so rich in it.” Crowley can’t believe it, he wants to throw himself off The Eye, and he would if he could be sure about getting a new corporation. See if that way the song gets unstuck from his head.

It’s been six days. Crowley’s in the back of the bookshop scrolling through his phone. Aziraphale hums a song from the kid’s show they’ve been watching under his breath, making sure Crowley doesn’t realize he’s doing it. He knows the little song is driving Crowley crazy, and Aziraphale’s having so much fun watching it.

Aziraphale wonders how long it will take Crowley to notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Crowley has stuck in his head is “On the Run”, from Steven Universe season 2, I think.  
> https://youtu.be/W3U-Qc9e-T0
> 
> I know the prompt is “On The Road”, but I got the song stuck as soon as I read the prompt, and I’ve been singing it wrong since yesterday. Enjoy!


	28. Day 27. Half-Written

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds a little half-written something

Crowley enters the bookshop calling for Aziraphale but he gets no answer. He walks straight into the back room and looks around until he finds a sticky note in _tartan_ that says.

_Hello, dear. I’ve run to the shops to get some cuts for our charcuterie board, you know miracled meats never taste quite the same. I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail._

_Aziraphale._

_P.s. aren’t these little squares delightful?_

Crowley rolls his eyes and smiles at the prospect of Aziraphale finding stationery delightful. He’s starting to turn around to see how many of Aziraphale’s books he can move slightly to the left before the angel gets back, when the sight of his name somewhere from Aziraphale’s desk catches his eye.

Or it would be the sight of his name if it wasn’t crossed out on the page, and then written and crossed out again, and then again. Crowley pulls the page and starts reading.

~~_Crowley_ _,_ ~~

~~_My Dear Crowley,_ ~~

~~_My Dearest (??) Crowley,_ ~~

_Oh Lord, I can’t do this. Well, this will only be a draft. Seeing how I have treated this page already._

_My Darling Crowley (this might be the right one. It has a nice ring to it)._

~~_I hope this letter finds you in good health_ ~~ _. (For Heaven’s sake, this is not a business letter). I’m writing this in the hopes that it will spur me into action and allow me a moment of_ ~~_chutzpah, as you would say_ ~~ _boldness. I understand that there are things that must be said in person, but how could I ever be this sincere_ ~~_while having your gorgeous eyes on me_ ~~ _in front of you when I have spent centuries learning to hide?_ ~~_I am, therefore, taking advantage of the distance that a letter would permit me in case you find yourself unreceptive to my affection_ ~~ _~~s.~~ Well then, on with it, I must simply tell you, my dearest one, that I - Oh bugger all is it this late already? I have to go and get the food. _

Crowley stands there, frozen except for the ecstatic smile that is now pulling at his lips. He hears the bell of the bookshop ding, and turns around, ready to make all of his dreams come true.


	29. Day 28. Starlight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the game of pet names, who wins?

For 6000 years Aziraphale had been collecting cute pet names and sweet nothings that he would like to use for Crowley. He had, at the very least, one in each and every language that had ever existed, and some that hadn’t even been invented yet. He’d been absolutely ready to switch the “my dear” to any other imaginable silliness that he’d been hoarding. Which was why he was dumbfounded when Crowley beat him to it.

They weren’t even fully awake, tangled together in bed the second morning of the rest of their lives, when Crowley pulled Aziraphale into his chest and pressed a kiss to his curls, “my most beloved starlight” dripping from his lips. And if Aziraphale gasped and nuzzled further into Crowley’s chest, well, no one commented on it.

Because the truth was that Aziraphale had thought that it would be exquisite to finally be able to call Crowley every manner of lovely words, but never in his existence did he imagine the delight that would be being called by those terms of affection. Never did he fathom that Crowley’s little words _(querido mío, pialli, in nikte’, habibi, jaanam, skatjie, cuore, boku no koibito, mi enamorado, lao gong)_ would bring him such bliss. And he could see how much Crowley enjoyed it, he could see how his serpent was blooming in his love for him.

Softly, like entering the warm sea, Aziraphale decided to give into his demon’s even softer love, and let him build a new life out of his love-laced words.


	30. Day 29. Thunderstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale’s feelings regarding thunderstorms.

From the top of a cliff a figure dressed in cream and tartan watches the stormy clouds. He rolls his neck and opens his arms as the wind picks up, letting it pass over him and through him. The thunder in the sky reverberates in his very soul, and he laughs as the wildness outside finally reflects the rebellious spark that lives inside him.

He lets himself fall off the cliff, wings unraveling halfway down. Then he soars, he soars and he dances between the fat drops that are starting to fall and the lightning that illuminates the world in the most capricious patterns. Aziraphale has always loved thunderstorms. They remind him that, if he wishes, he too, can be a force of nature.


	31. Day 30. “You Had To Be There”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley tells Aziraphale about his time as a starmaker.

It’s a quiet autumn night. Sitting on the back porch of their new little cottage in the South Downs an angel and a demon sip spiced apple cider. Aziraphale’s resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder, they are both covered with a blanket gazing at the stars.

“Oh, Angel it was like nothing you have ever seen on earth. The colours, just the colours were magnificent. Even when the humans send their ships and try to colorize the pictures, they don’t even get close to what it really looks like,“ Crowley’s talking fast, his eyes are shining like the stars he’s talking about, and he’s beaming, “And the energy of creation, the science behind it! The tug of war between forces that could cause supernovas and send us back for supplies all dusted with star stuff. And then we made them dance together, spin on themselves and around others. It was just so beautiful, Angel. You should have been there,”

Aziraphale looks up at Crowley and for a moment there, he can see the Divinity in him. What that star maker would have looked like, watching his creations float along in the vastness of the universe. He loves it, and it makes him a bit sad; he knows he’s no star, “Do you miss them much?” He asks, wistful, before he can bite his tongue. Ridiculous Angel, jealous of starlight and atoms burning billions of light years away. Jealous of the way Crowley’s yearning eyes are hung on the cosmic choreography he helped build so many eons ago. He sighs, looking at Crowley the way Crowley’s looking at the stars, longing for the being who’s sitting right beside him.

Then the miracle happens and Crowley notices. He puts his arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders, and cups his Angel’s jaw with his other hand. Crowley’s looking at Aziraphale the way he’s always wanted to look at him. Aziraphale gasps and chokes on a breath, his eyes well, because how dare he, how dare he ever be jealous of the looks the night gets when finally he’s seen his own eternal love looking right back at him. He closes his eyes, finally letting the tears from his wounded heart just-made-complete fall and heal him.

In the sky above, the stars keep shining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry writing this


	32. Day 31. “Make Me”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale’s anxious, and it’s getting the best of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t gone to sleep so this counts

Aziraphale had been pacing the bookshop for the last 7 hours. At first, Crowley found it amusing. Then, he started to get dizzy. Currently, he was downright annoyed. Curse him and his novel ideas, but how could he have known that the first time Aziraphale tried to sleep he was going to have a bloody nightmare about Heaven coming back to get them?

Aziraphale wasn’t faring much better. His pacing had been accompanied at first by open ritualistic books and then had gradually been replaced by brochures for the most modern alarm systems and everything in between. He had been mumbling, moving his hands in the air, as if writing on a board only he could see. At this rate he would have already worn a trench on the floor boards had the bookshop not know what was good for itself. Worst of all, he wasn’t even acknowledging Crowley anymore, which didn’t help the overall atmosphere at all.

Crowley tried to get Aziraphale’s attention.

“Aziraphale, Angel, chill,” he started, softly. “It’s going to be alright. They fear us. Do you really think the Archangels are that insane? As far as they know you can breathe Hellfire at them.”

“I can’t ignore this, Crowley. It might be a warning from the Almighty,” Aziraphale continued pacing.

“Come on, Angel. She hasn’t spoken to anyone in ages. She didn’t even speak to you during the Apocalypse, and you rang her directly,”

“You don’t get it. They can best us if they all come at us at the same time,”

“Angel, relax, it was a nightmare. Those happen,” Crowley was starting to get irritated.

“During the very first time I slept? I don’t think it’s ‘just a nightmare’ as you say,”

“You’re reading too much into this,”

“Crowley please take this seriously!”

“I’m taking it seriously, Aziraphale. For the last time, calm down,”

“Well, fucking make me, dear boy!”

“You know what? That’s it!” Before Crowley could think what he was doing he was striding through the bookshop. He took Aziraphale’s face in his hand and kissed him soundly.

Aziraphale “eep”-ed, half-choked, and then he kissed back with a vengeance. Crowley pulled away, settled Aziraphale into his arms and started pressing kisses into his face and hair. “We. Are. Going. To be. Fine. Angel. We’re. In this. Together. Our. Own. Side. Remember?” He finished with a kiss to Aziraphale’s nose.

Aziraphale looked at him, breathing as if he had just finished a marathon. “Do you really think we will be fine?” He asked, serious.

“I’m certain,”

Aziraphale nodded slightly. “I believe you,” he swallowed. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... CHEERS for my first ever completed challenge!!!
> 
> I’m so glad and proud of myself :D I’d also love to thank CandyQueenAO3, who was my beta extraordinaire for most of this challenge. Also thanks to MagnetoTheMagnificent without whom I would have probably dropped this challenge halfway, and Zadusk who was also there cheering me and helping discuss some ideas. You should totally go and read their stuff.
> 
> And thanks to you too, dear reader, I’m so glad I’ve been fortunate enough to share this with you.
> 
> If you like this please expect a couple extra chapters. Have a good one. And have a Happy Halloween.


	33. Extra 1. Whispers + Breathless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13. Whispers and Day 15. Breathless, were originally meant as a single piece.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers like a benediction, the moment Aziraphale takes his glasses off and cups his face like he can’t believe they’re finally safe. _

They’re finally back in the bookshop, after their executions, after the Ritz, after the End of the World. And Aziraphale can’t believe it, he cups Crowley’s face and takes his glasses off. The look of hope in those gold eyes steals his breath. 

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, chuckling when he comes into the bookshop to find every single shelf in the middle of an urgent reorganization. _

The next morning, Aziraphale is aghast. He can’t believe Adam had the nerve to reorganize the bookshop in  _ alphabetical order _ , as if he wanted any customer to find the book they’re wanting. He almost can’t breathe at the mere thought. He sets on to fix this.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers and groans a bit. He’s been waiting for the Angel for an hour. He’s certain his Angel forgot about the picnic and is now trapped in one of his books. _

A couple days later, Crowley storms into the bookshop. Looking at Aziraphale with a rather pissed off face, his hands holding a picnic hamper. Aziraphale scrambles for breath. He can’t believe he forgot the picnic he promised Crowley 50 years ago.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, as a soft whimper leaves his lips, so close to the Angel’s and finally, finally touching. _

When they come back from a lovely lunch picnic that turned into a lovely dinner in a little café not far away from the shop. They sit on the settee in the back room of the shop. As soon as they realize that they’re practically touching from shoulder to toe the tension in the room changes. Aziraphale looks up at Crowley and suddenly he’s breathless. He wants to speak, he wants to talk. He can’t. Crowley takes his glasses off, and they’re so close, too close. They only need to dare to change their destinies. Again. A touch of free will.

Aziraphale doesn’t know who kissed first. He doesn’t care.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers into Aziraphale’s ear, while his Angel nibbles at his neck, sending exquisite shivers all over his body. _

Soon, he’s climbed into Crowley’s lap. And he’s nibbling at the demon’s neck like the Apocalypse has just restarted. He doesn’t have time to breathe, he doesn’t want to. He’s busy at the moment, thank you very much.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, pulling Aziraphale onto his bed. Before the Angel can kiss him again like a man possessed. _

Aziraphale’s not entirely sure how they got to the bedroom. He pushes Crowley onto the mattress and stops for a second, taking Crowley in. He’s thankful that he doesn’t need to breathe because the lord knows he couldn’t at the moment. He gives in when Crowley pulls him, and starts kissing again like a madman.

_ “Aziraphale?” Crowley whispers and it’s a question. His angel nods. _

They tangle together pushing and pulling, holding and never intending to let go. Eventually, Aziraphale catches his name in Crowley’s voice, asking if this is alright. Asking if he can continue. Aziraphale sighs, he looks Crowley in the eye and nods.

_ “Ah- Aziraphale!” Crowley whispers, and whispers, and whispers. Like a prayer to the only being he’s ever really worshiped in his entire existence. The One who’s undoing his mind and body with devoted, decadent pleasure. _

Aziraphale wishes he could whisper Crowley’s name just like he hears him do. But he doesn’t have the presence for that. The miracle of them together is too great to embrace and the sensations are building with irresistible force. Before he knows it, what little air he has is punched out of his lungs and his body’s contracting and releasing with the unspoken rhythm of their joined hearts.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers in his sleep, blessed by Aziraphale to dream of whatever he likes best. _

Soon Aziraphale’s breath becomes softer. He’s running his hair through Crowley’s hair, and he kisses his temple. Making sure he will dream of whatever he likes best. When Crowley murmurs his name between dreams, Aziraphale wishes he could have his breath stolen away just like this, every day of his life.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers to his ear some months later and he presses a kiss to blond, downy curls. He needs to tempt the Angel to a drive to the seaside. _

Time flows as time is wont to do. A season or two later, Aziraphale is in the back room of the bookshop reading, when he hears the twinkle of the bookshop bell and the long, languorous steps that follow. He smiles to himself and keeps reading. When he feels a kiss pressed to his head, he looks up and lets Crowley tempt him into whatever crazy scheme he’s currently planning.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, terrified. Opening a door to a cottage. _

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, because his voice won’t let him do anything else. He’s on one knee, left hand holding Aziraphale’s right. Right hand holding the keys to the cottage they’re exploring, attached is a keychain and a ring. _

They arrive at a little cottage somewhere in the South Downs. Crowley opens the door and whines something that vaguely sounds like Aziraphale’s name. Aziraphale nods and enters the cottage. He’s immediately enchanted by it. As he turns to ask Crowley if his temptation consists of a weekend away, he freezes. For the umpteenth time since they’re together, Crowley’s decided he can do whatever he wants with Aziraphale’s thoughts, pulse, breath. He’s kneeling. Offering Aziraphale a set of keys, a ring and the promise of their lives together. For a moment the air stills.

Of course he says yes. How could he not?

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, touching his forehead to Aziraphale’s, as the ragtag team of humans who averted the apocalypse applauds. The Officiant smiles, presenting the newly married couple. _

After the wedding, he’s a mess. He’s tears, and smiles, and sighs. He’s incandescent Love. And now he’s not alone. From now on, he’s never alone.

_ “Aziraphale,” Crowley whispers, looking at his barely awake husband’s face, radiant in the morning light. _

The sun enters through the east window of their bedroom. Aziraphale opens his eyes a bit, not wanting to come back to reality yet. His eyes land on his husband’s face, and he remembers that finally, reality’s better than dreams. Crowley smiles. Aziraphale is once again, and forever, breathless.


End file.
